Wedded Bliss
by TreacleTartMyHeart
Summary: A Marriage Law Challenge Fic. Hermione and Severus discover that sometimes love isn't fireworks and sweet nothings. Sometimes love is a slow burn and the gentle promise of forever. HG/SS. HEA - eventually. Rated M for Mature Themes and Graphic lemons.
1. Chapter 1: The Marriage Law

**A/N: This is my response to the WIKTT Marriage Law challenge. I have not been completely faithful to the guidelines of the challenge – making changes where it suits me, but that's the fun of writing – I can do whatever I want. :) Anyway, before you read this you should know a couple things. **

**First, The timeline for this begins during Hermione's sixth year. The relationship between her and Severus is both that of a husband and wife and a teacher and student. Both parties are of age and consenting. _If the teacher/student dynamic bothers you – turn back now!_ **

**Second, I write graphic sexual scenes._ So, if you are under 18 or easily offended – turn back__ now!_ **

**And lastly, I don't have a beta, so there will be grammar and punctuation mistakes. Hopefully, they won't distract too much from the story, but _if that kind of thing bothers you – turn back now!_ **

**In short, writing this story is supposed to be fun for me. Marriage Law challenge fics are some of my all time favorites, and I'm posting this here so that maybe a few other people can enjoy this one, too. I don't have a regular posting schedule, and I'm not trying to write the greatest story ever. Like I said, this is just for fun. So, if you review – be kind. **

**So, now that that's out of the way – Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

**Chapter One: The Marriage Law**

**SETTING**: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

**DATE: **Monday September 30, 1996, Hermione's Sixth Year

**The Daily Prophet**

**Pure-blood Marriage Law Enacted**

**British wizarding society is in an uproar today over the swift and unexpected passage of new pure-blood marriage legislation. The recently enacted statute requires all unwed pure-blood wizards and witches between the ages of seventeen and forty-five to marry muggles or half-bloods and produce a new generation of magical children forthwith. **

**Although the law was created in response to the generally declining magical birthrate and the increasing number of miscarriages and squib births associated with pure-blood unions, both pure-bloods and muggles are equally outraged at the mandates as stated in the first action put forward by the new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour. **

**The discriminatory nature of the statute at the heart of the heated ethical debate has been argued since before the four founders established Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not even the traditionally aristocratic pure-blood families have escaped the law, but that is of little concern to members of the Wizengamont who say that the law is necessary regardless of it's flaws. **

"**We had to take action if we are to save the future of British wizarding society," declared Minister Srimgeour at his press conference early this morning. "We need new blood infused into our society immediately, or within the next two generations, wizarding England will be no more. We had no choice but to pass the law." **

**Details on page 22.**

"Are you all right?" Harry asked as he patted Hermione's back, concerned.

Hermione nodded as she coughed, almost choking on her toast.

"Yes. Thank you, Harry." She cleared her throat one last time and looked at her friends, all of which were sitting around her having breakfast in the great hall. "Have you read this?" She held out her recently delivered morning edition of the Daily Prophet.

"No," Ron piped in. "We figure if there's anything important in there you'll let us know."

Hermione scowled at him. His flippant attitude about anything other than food and Quiddich was starting to grate on her nerves. "That's just great, Ron. Just like I keep you on track with your studies, right?"

"Well, yeah," he mumbled around a mouthful of eggs, not looking one bit apologetic.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, deciding further comment simply wasn't worth the effort, and turned her attention to Harry. "This says that all witches and wizards between the ages of seventeen and forty-five will be required to marry and have babies … immediately!"

Now, that statement finally garnered everyone's attention. The table was overcome by a shocked silence. Even Ron ceased his shoveling and stared blankly at her.

"What?" Harry asked disbelievingly, grabbing the paper from her and reading for himself. Surely, she was playing some sort of joke on them… She wasn't. The Daily Prophet's headline confirmed her unbelievable statement. "They can't do that, can they? That's like… like…"

"It's like slavery – that's what it is," Hermione provided, snatching the paper back. She turned to page twenty-two and read on aloud, everyone sitting around her listening in. "It says here that unmarried pure-blood witches and wizards have one month to petition the half-blood or muggle of their choice. Any witch or wizard petitioned has one week to accept said petition. If more than one petition is received, the recipient has one week from the date of the last petition received in which to choose and accept one of said petitions. If said witch or wizard fails to accept within the allotted time, their wand will be broken, and they will be banished from all wizarding society." She paused and looked around the table at the disbelieving faces of her friends before she continued. "It also says that a child must be produced within the first year of marriage and another child every following three years, with a minimum four child requirement. Failing to meet this requirement, the chosen half-blood or muggle will submit themselves to St. Mungo's for fertility evaluation and possible legal action with stiff sentences being awarded in Azkaban for anyone trying to circumvent the law." Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Unbelievable."

"I'm a pure-blood," Neville put in. "Does that mean I have to petition someone as soon as I turn seventeen?"

"Yes, Neville," Hermione explained. "That's exactly what this means. But, at least you and Ron will get to choose who you marry. Harry and I will be only be given the options presented to us. It's blood discrimination on a horrific level. We're to be used for breeding – plain and simple"

"There's more to this than meets the eye," Harry said. "There's no way the pure-blood elite would let this happen. Their blood status means too much to them to sully it by marrying half-bloods and muggles. It would never have passed in the Wizengamont – not without pure-blood support."

"Harry's right," Ginny agreed. "There's got to be something more going on."

"Well, at least we have a year before it applies to us," Ron said, always the devil's advocate. "Maybe it will be repealed."

"No, Ron." Harry corrected him, exasperated. "Hermione just turned seventeen, remember? The law applies to her."

"Oh, yeah. Forgot." Ron stuffed another mouthful of bacon in his mouth and looked down at his plate, finally appearing sheepish.

Before any further comments could be made on the subject of the new law or Hermione's predicament, a loud screeching bird call pierced the air, drawing every face upward. Suddenly, a large, black, regal-looking eagle flew into the great hall and completed a slow circle overhead, building the anticipation of all present as to who was it's intended recipient. The majestic bird took it's time, gracefully circling downward until finally swooping low over the Gryffindor table – causing several of the younger students to duck their heads, and dropping a letter on the plate in front of Hermione before it screeched loudly one last time and soared back out the window.

Everyone in the Great Hall looked from the empty window to the Gryffindor table and Hermione, wondering what the bookish girl could have received. No other student in recent history had been delivered a letter in such grand style – not even Draco Malfoy. Hermione picked up the envelope and turned it over in her hands. The parchment was of the finest quality milled ivory with elegant green calligraphy addressing her name across the front.

"Who's it from, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"I don't know." She started to break the green wax seal, stamped with the letter **M **on the seam, when she was interrupted by a hand gripping her shoulder.

"Miss Granger, please follow me," Professor McGonagall requested from behind her.

"But…"

"Now, Miss Granger." She turned and walked away.

Hermione had no choice but to follow her Head of House from the Great Hall as her concerned friends looked on.

* * *

Hermione followed her hurried Head of House through the halls and up the stairs of Hogwarts castle. When they stood before the winged gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office, Hermione started to become concerned, wondering what she could have done wrong.

"Swedish fish," her professor said crisply, and the circular staircase revolved into view.

Hermione continued to follow quietly behind her professor who had yet to utter a word to her. At the top of the stairs, Professor McGonagall raised her hand to knock, but before her knuckles could touch the heavy wooden door, she heard the Headmaster offer entry. "Come in, Minerva."

Hermione stepped into Professor Dumbledore's office behind her Head of House to find the Headmaster and Professor Snape standing on either side of his desk watching her enter, faces grave.

"Ah, Miss Granger," the Headmaster greeted her, stepping behind his desk. "Please, sit."

Professor McGonagall stepped aside and extended her arm toward the chairs set in front of the Headmaster's desk. Hermione did as she was bid and walked forward, her eyes darting to the Headmaster and each of her instructor's in turn before she lowered herself into one of the proffered chairs, dropping her satchel at her feet and nervously turning the unopened ivory envelope over in her hands.

"May I?" Professor Dumbledore extended his hand toward her envelope.

"Um…" Hermione looked down at her hands, uncertain of how her mail could concern him, but extended the envelope toward him anyway. "Sure."

While he took the envelope from her hand and broke the seal, Hermione noticed that his other hand appeared dark and disfigured, but she didn't dwell on it. Instead, she watched as he removed the enclosed parchment, Professor Snape moving behind him to read her missive over the Headmaster's shoulder as Professor McGonagall came to stand at her flank, awaiting their reaction. Hermione's confusion and anxiety level grew as she watched the Headmaster and Professors Snape exchange knowing, severe looks over her letter until her curiosity couldn't be contained any longer.

"What does it say?" she blurted.

Professor Snape scowled at her outburst, but the Headmaster simply raised his eyebrows tolerantly and extended the parchment back to her. She took it, gently holding open the folded missive and began to read with her Head of House peeking over her shoulder.

**The Department of Magical Law Enforcement**

**Marriage Law Division**

_Dear Hermione Jean Granger,_

_On this, the 30th day of September, 1996, a petition was received for your hand in marriage on behalf of Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy. As forth with stated in the Marriage law: Section two; Clause Five, you have seven days, ending at 11:59pm on the 6th day of October, 1996, in which to sign the enclosed betrothal contract before legal action is taken against you. _

_If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to contact my office._

_Sincerely,_

_Albert Copperpott, Esq._

"I… I don't understand," Hermione looked up from the letter she was holding to the Headmaster and back again. "I mean, why would he want to marry me? He hates me."

"It's because he hates you. You daft girl!" Professor Snape snapped at her.

Hermione flinched, and Professor McGonagall cupped her hands on Hermione's upper arms protectively. "Easy, Severus," she warned. "It's not the girls fault."

Professor Snape scowled again and turned his back, stalking angrily across the room to stare out the window.

"Professor Snape is right, I'm afraid," the Headmaster admitted regretfully. "This petition is, no doubt, of nefarious design."

"But, why?" Hermione asked. "What could he gain from marrying me?"

Professor Snape turned from the window to stare menacingly at the girl as if she were stupid. "What would he gain?" he asked rhetorically. "Only complete financial, physical, and magical control of the 'brightest witch of her age.' All your magical and mental gifts would be at his disposal. Not to mention that you are the best friend of Harry Potter. What a boon that would be for Lucius – presenting you before the Dark Lord!"

"Lucius?" Hermione asked, confused. "I thought this petition was from Draco."

"According to the law, the head of the family may petition on behalf of any of it's members," the Headmaster explained. "And, I have no doubt that Lucius had influence in the drafting of the law to meet his own ends. It's obvious – you are his goal, Miss Granger."

"But, he's in Azkaban isn't he? And, anyway… why would anyone go through all this trouble to get to me?" Hermione simply couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Lucius's role in this started long before he was sent to Azkeban, and just because he's there doesn't mean his influence is not felt outside it's walls," the Headmaster said regretfully.

"As for all this trouble being for you… You insufferable little… You and your cohorts think everything revolves around you, don't you?" Professor Snape approached her, his tone incensed and condescending. "You are a mere bonus for Lucius. He's desperate to regain favor with the Dark Lord and aquiring you is an opportunity Lucius has seen fit to take advantage of. Make no mistake, the law itself is part of the Dark Lord's plan to eliminate all those who oppose him. If he has his way, you and all the other lesser-bloods will be married off to Deatheaters for the sole purpose of birthing a magically superior army. You will be locked away in a dungeon, raped and tortured. The children you bear will be taken from you at birth to be raised at the hands of the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange and taught to serve the Dark Arts, and, when you've served your purpose, you and those like you will all meet a very questionable end."

Tears started to form in Hermione's eyes as she stared up into Professor Snapes own cold, black orbs. The escalation of his rant bringing him across the room to stand menacingly over the girl.

"Severus, really!" Professor McGonagall scolded him. "Must you be so crass? You're frightening her."

"Good! She should be afraid," Professor Snape replied, before he stalked back to the window.

"Although, Severus has stated the facts rather harshly," the Headmaster began, then glanced reprovingly at the dark figure of the DADA professor. "He has spoken the truth. Hermione, you are the brightest student at this school, making you the best genetically magical candidate for extending the Malfoy line. If Lucius can hurt Harry and regain favor with his master by weakening his enemy, then he definitely wants you for his son."

Hermione's mind was racing, looking for any inconsistency that would explain away the impossible nightmare she was currently finding herself in. "But the law says the petitioner must be seventeen," she rationalized. "Draco's a sixth year like me. He should only be sixteen."

"No, Hermione," the Headmaster replied patiently. "Like you, he has recently become of age. Although, your accelerated age for your year is due to a late September birthday, Draco entered Hogwarts late due to illness. Ironically, one could argue his sickly childhood is all the more reason to infuse the Malfoy bloodline with new magical blood."

"What are we going to do, Albus?" Professor McGonagall fretted. "We can't let this happen."

"I don't know, Minerva. My hands are tied by the law," Professor Dumbledore said, frustrated. "Unless we can find another pure-blood to petition for her hand within the next week, she may be lost to us."

The Headmaster's office became silent except for Hermione's discreet sniffles and the soft clicking of Faulkes' beak as the phoenix preened unconcerned on his perch.

"Minerva, why don't you walk Hermione to her next class while Severus and I search for a solution to this little problem," Professor Dumbledore requested as he seated himself heavily behind his desk.

"Of course." Professor McGonagall took the distraught girl by the elbow, encouraging her to stand, and picked up her satchel, hooking it over the girl's shoulder. "Come along, dear."

* * *

Hermione went to Transfigurations with Professor McGonagall, arriving to find the class already seated and awaiting the professor's arrival. Under normal circumstances, no one would have been curious about Hermione's late entrance alongside her instructor. After all, she was Hermione Granger – teacher's pet, and it wasn't an unusual occurrence to see her trailing an instructor to either offer assistance or seek out clarification on the finer points of a lesson. But today, with the dramatic delivery of a mystery letter at breakfast followed by her conspicuous removal by Professor McGonagall from the Great Hall, she drew more than a few curious gazes and whispered utterances from her classmates.

Harry and Ron, their interest already peaked, began to become anxious as they watched Hermione enter the classroom. Her worried gaze, instead of meeting theirs, immediately went to that of Draco Malfoy. The moment the weasel returned her gaze, his lips moved, delivering a silent message only she could decipher. Their friend looked scared by whatever he had said to her, and she quickly scurried to her seat at the front of the class next to Neville.

Hermione's two best mates looked at her back and then at each other in bemusement before turning to look at Draco who was seated at the rear of the classroom with the other sixth year Slytherins. The expression on Malfoy's face as he leered at Hermione was one of smug satisfaction. Turning back around, Harry's eyes darkened as he made the connection that Ron couldn't yet see. Whatever was going on with Hermione obviously had something to do with Draco, and he didn't like that idea one bit. Ron noticed the angry look on Harry's face and tilted his head at him imploringly, but the lecture had begun, forcing Harry to wave him off and leave him clueless for the rest of the class period.

During McGonagall's lecture, Harry watched Hermione – her posture was slouched, her eyes never left her book, and not once did she raise her hand to put forth an answer. Something was seriously wrong with her. She had never given Malfoy the satisfaction of seeing her upset at his bullying before. At the end of class, Harry ignored Ron's questions and quickly gathered his book and notes into his satchel, meaning to talk to Hermione and find out what was going on, but she was too fast, disappearing into the throng of students in the hall before he could catch her.

Hermione left Transfigurations as fast as she could. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to avoid any further interaction with Draco. She wasn't thinking about how concerned her friends must have been for her or the explanation they were surely waiting for. The only thing on her mind was getting as far away from Draco as she could get. The way he had looked at her and laid claim to her, mouthing "You're mine, Granger" as she entered the classroom, had made clear the reality of her situation. It was obvious he was aware of what his father was up to, and that he was a willing participant. All the things that Professor Snape had said that morning played repeatedly through her mind. She hadn't wanted to believe it. She always knew Draco was a spoiled prat, but to want to do her serious harm, to want to rape and torture her – could he really do that to someone? Harry believed he could. He also believed Draco had already taken the Dark Mark, and after this mornings events, she was forced to concede that that was a real possibility. If that was the case, then she had to find a way to avoid becoming his wife at all cost.

Not one for being truant, Hermione went to her Advanced Arithmancy and Study of Ancient Runes classes that morning, but she couldn't have said what either lecture was about. All she could think about was how that stupid law was going to ruin everything! She had plans for herself, damn it, and they didn't include the bleak future Professor Snape had described or the one that was promised in Draco's eyes. No, Hermione was determined to find a solution – the thought of falling victim to Voldemort's plan incensing her. By lunchtime, with her appetite non-existent anyway, and the thought of spending her lunch period alternating between answering Harry and Ron's questions and averting her gaze from the Slytherin table being too much to bear, she chose instead to hide in the library among her beloved books – wracking her superior brain for a solution that would save her from the clutches of Lucius and Draco Malfoy.

She read and reread both the Marriage Law as posted in the Daily Prophet and the betrothal contract enclosed with her petition notice. There were no loopholes or exceptions to the stipulations as laid out by the law. If she submitted to marrying Draco as the law demanded, she was basically forfeiting her life. As her husband, Draco would have complete control over her. All her assets, including her body, would be at his disposal. She would be expected to have intercourse with him a minimum of two times in every consecutive seven days until such time as she is confirmed pregnant by an appointed Ministry physician, and coitus and fidelity monitoring spells were to be added to all hand-fasting ceremonies sanctioned by the Ministry. In essence, Professor Snape was correct. She was to become his possession and brood bitch, and would no doubt be horribly mistreated and abused.

How could this be happening to her? How could this be happening to anyone? It was 1996, not 1396. This was worse than mere blood discrimination – it was enslavement. The house elves would have more rights than her under the new law. What was she to do? She had absolutely no legal recourse. Professor Dumbledore was right in thinking her only hope lay in the possibility of a second petitioner – but who? One of the other Weasley men? Perhaps, one of the twins? That thought made her shiver. She didn't think she could handle mischievous behavior on such a grand scale, and wizarding marriages were permanent. The vows of the hand-fasting were cast with ancient magic, woven irrevocably into the fabric of space and time. If she were to accept anyone's petition, they would be bound until death, and who could she ask to make such a sacrifice?

Her lunch break almost spent, Hermione headed to the DADA tower, arriving in a daze a few minutes early for class, and sat three rows back from the front where she always sat between Harry and Ron. Distracted by her thoughts, she barely noticed when someone sat on the stool next to hers – just assuming it was one of her fellow Gryffindors until she felt a hand gently tug on one of her stray curls and a low, threatening voice speak close to her ear.

"You've been promised to me, Granger, and…," startled in place, Hermione kept her head still while letting her eyes slide to the side, watching Draco's face out of the corner of her eye, "…once we're married, I plan to show you just how a mudblood should be treated." A shiver of dread spread over Hermione's body, starting from where Draco's breath blew across her skin.

"Shove off, Malfoy!" Harry said angrily as he walked up to where Draco was seated in his spot, leaning suspiciously close to Hermione.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief and turned to watch as Draco straightened himself and stood, all the while smirking at Harry like the cat who got the canary. He didn't say a word as he put his satchel over his shoulder and backed away, the wicked smile on his face never faltering as he headed to his usual seat at the rear of the class.

"What was that about, 'Mione?" Harry asked, turning his attention to her when he was satisfied that Draco was a safe distance away.

Hermione hesitated her reply as Ron walked up beside them looking from Hermione to Draco and then back. "Nothing. Just the usual," she replied, trying to deflect Harry's question. Now was not the time to tell him the whole story. "I…I mean, you know Malfoy." She looked away from Harry's disbelieving gaze, turning to the front of the class as if nothing had happened and she simply wanted to be ready for the lesson to begin.

Until their eyes met, she didn't notice Professor Snape standing behind his desk watching their exchange. How long had he been there? What had he seen and heard? Harry and Ron took their places beside her as the rest of the class filtered in, but Hermione was held in the steely gaze of her professor. It was unsettling to have him look at her like that – like he knew what Malfoy was up to, but either didn't care or was unwilling to step in on her behalf. Hermione felt truly alone, even seated between her closest friends in the middle of a crowded classroom she felt utterly isolated. The stress of the mornings events and the realization that no one was going to be able to save her, not even herself, flooded her psyche like a wave of despair washing over her. There in the middle of the classroom, with her eyes held firmly in the black, hateful gaze of her most feared professor, her lip started to tremble and she could feel her control over her emotions start to crumble.

Professor Snape did, in fact, overhear what Draco had said to her and wondered at her stunned expression. What did she think was going to happen now that the boy actually had the tools with which to harass her properly? All that intelligence wasted on the stupid, little chit. She sat in his class day after day, raising her annoying little hand and spewing her regurgitated book knowledge until he was nauseous with it, but when the obvious sat before her, she was as dim as the imbeciles sitting on either side of her. Did it honestly take the better part of the day for her to realize that with the petition for her hand in place, Draco was no longer playing a child's simple game of bullying and intimidation? – Of course, the girl was not privy to all the information Professor Snape had at his disposal. She didn't know that Draco had indeed taken the Dark Mark, and was eager to vindicate his father and prove himself to the Dark Lord even if he had to agree to kill his nemesis – Albus Dumbledore. Regardless, he thought he had made it clear to her that morning what her situation truly was. Why did it take a few threatening words from Draco to make all the pieces finally come together for her? It would seem that even with all her intelligence the girl was nothing more than that – a naive child suddenly realizing that there were real monsters in this world. He could see the innocence slipping from her eyes just as surely as he could see the tears forming in them. If he didn't take action, she would surely burst into tears in the middle of his classroom. He sighed heavily – why must he always have to deal with these sort of emotional outbursts from his students?

"Miss Granger," he drolled tediously, his eyes never leaving hers, "gather your things and follow me." He broke eye contact with her and stepped swiftly from behind his desk, his cape billowing satisfactorily, to wait at the end of her row for her to place her quill and parchment in her satchel.

"Today, Miss Granger," he said impatiently as Hermione paused when Harry gave her a questioning, concerned look. She shook her head subtly at her friend, silently telling him they would talk later, and quickly followed Professor Snape from the classroom.

Once in the hall and away from the prying eyes of her classmates, Professor Snape turned abruptly to face Hermione causing her to bump into his chest before she could stop her momentum. He huffed at her in aggravation and pushed her harshly away. "Miss Granger, can you not even walk without incidence?" he said venomously, and that was all it took to sever Hermione's tenuous hold on her emotions and set her crying in earnest, her sobs echoing down the dungeon corridor. Professor Snape cringed at the sound of the girl's weeping and quickly drew his wand, casting a silencing spell on her. He watched with revulsion as the pitiful girl stood – shoulders slumped, eyes and nose spewing liquids, and mouth open in a thankfully silent wail. Merlin's balls, the things he had to endure! "Get a hold of yourself, girl!" he snapped. "You're only making matters worse."

Hermione tried to stop crying – she really did. She bit back her sobs and swatted her hands over her cheeks, wiping angrily at her tears. He was right – tears were a waste of energy, her always logical mind telling her to focus on fixing her problems, not waste time blubbering. Still, it took a great deal of effort and several minutes before she regained her composure.

Her outburst having subsided until only a few hiccups and trembles remained, Professor Snape handed the girl his handkerchief and removed the silencing charm. "Better now?" he asked, looking down his nose at her patronizingly. She ignored his condescension, nodding and sniffling as she gratefully used his handkerchief to dab at her nose and eyes. "Let me offer you a bit of advice, Miss Granger."

Surprised by his unexpected overture, she looked up at his stern face with wide, red eyes. "Never show your weakness to Draco again." He spoke in a low, forbidding voice, stepping in close to her. "I would have thought you would understand the way things are after what happened in the Ministry last year."

"I… just never really expected Draco to be capable of…" she tried to explain, but couldn't express the confusion inside her. "I know he doesn't like me, but he's like us – a student, not like… them."

"Don't be fooled by his youth," he warned. "The Dark Lord himself was once an innocent looking boy. Draco hasn't gone down that road yet, but he has been…_encouraged _by his father to explore his darker tendencies, and the Marriage Law changes things. It makes any further disparagement of you socially acceptable in his eyes." Professor Snape inhaled deeply, standing straighter and stepping away, like he had just finished taking care of a dreaded task. "Now, go back to your dormitory and, for Merlin's sake, pull yourself together."

Hermione looked from him down to her hands and neatly folded his handkerchief. "Thank you, sir," she said as she held it out to him. She was not only thanking him for the use of his kerchief, but also for his candid advice. He hadn't offered it with any amount of kindness, but she knew it was well intended, nonetheless.

He scoffed at the soiled cloth. "Keep it," he said, disgusted, and swiftly whirled away from her with his usual flourish, entering his classroom and leaving her alone in the tower corridor.

* * *

Later that evening after spending the rest of the afternoon doing as Professor Snape had suggested – pulling herself together, Hermione descended from the girls dormitory into the Gryffindor common room to find the general atmosphere somber. Her eyes surveyed the room, noting several girls comforting a seventh year as she cried in the corner while other small groups of students talked quietly in clusters about the room. Harry and Ron were at their usual table against the wall to the side of the hearth, engrossed in a game of wizard's chess.

"Hey," she said shyly as she approached them.

"Hey," the boys responded in unison, looking up at her and then at each other nervously. Harry stood. "Hermione, are you all right?" he asked anxiously, taking in her bloodshot eyes and pale complexion. She had obviously been crying. "What's going on? Is it about the letter you got?"

"Yeah, Helga Parsons got one, too – at dinner," Ron interjected and glanced over at the girl crying in the corner. "She's been crying all evening."

Hermione realized that if other girls were also receiving petitions, then her friends must now at least know what the letter pertained to – everyone must. She was hesitant to confide in them. She didn't want to tell them about Draco. She had spent the afternoon sequestered in her room, analyzing all the implications of her situation. She knew tensions were already running high between the three boys since spying on Draco during his foray into Borgin and Burkes, and then with what happened on the train when Draco stunned Harry and broke his nose. She also knew their first reaction would be anger, but she didn't want them fighting. Harry had begun meeting privately with Dumbledore and should have been concentrating on preparing for his eventual confrontation with He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named, not worrying about her or defending her honor. For the first time that afternoon, she felt like because she was a girl and vulnerable under the Marriage Law, she was a burden to them. It was a new and very distressing sensation. She had never in her life been the damsel in distress. She had always felt like she was the brains of their team, an invaluable asset – not a liability. Until now. She had spent her day doing what came naturally to her – thinking and trying to solve an unsolvable problem. Brilliant Hermione could always find the answer, couldn't she? She reasoned that there simply must be a way out of this predicament, but it had been futile. Never before had she felt so helpless.

Harry cut to the chase. "Tell us, Hermione. Who petitioned you?"

Hermione looked around, checking for prying ears, before heading for a small group of empty chairs located more discreetly in the farthest corner of the room. Harry and Ron followed her, sitting themselves closely on either side of her as she cast a privacy spell around them. The boys waited patiently as Hermione gathered her courage and filled them in on the circumstances surrounding her petition. "You're right. The letter was a marriage petition. McGonagall took me to the headmaster's office to open it. I… I don't know what I'm going to do," she said despairingly and started to cry again. Harry inched closer and began rubbing her back soothingly while Ron, not knowing how to be of comfort, waited with his elbows on his knees and his fingers tented worriedly at his mouth. When her crying slowed once more, she continued. "Professor Snape said that the marriage law was He-Who-Would-Not-Be-Named's plan to create a superior race of wizards and witches under his leadership – like Hitler tried to create an Aryan race – and that the muggles and half-bloods would be used as breeders and then eventually be … disposed of – just like the Jews."

"Blimey," Ron said, exchanging a shocked look with Harry. "Don't worry, 'Mione. We won't let anything happen to you."

"That's right, Hermione." Harry agreed, taking her hand. "We'll protect you."

"You don't understand. There's nothing you can do," she told them hopelessly. "I spent the day studying the law. There are no loopholes. Professor Snape said that Lucius Malfoy had a hand in writing the law so that I couldn't get away – no one can get away."

"What do you mean Lucius didn't want you to get away?" Harry asked, suspiciously curious. "He's in Azkaban. What's he got to do with this?"

Hermione, realizing she couldn't keep her petitioner's identity from them forever, closed her eyes and let the answer rush from her lips. "I mean that the law was drafted and it's passing set in motion by Minister Fudge and Lucius Malfoy before the events at the Ministry, and now, with no opposition from Minister Scrimgeour forthcoming, even from Azkaban, Lucius is free to petition for my hand on behalf of his son." When she opened her eyes a moment later, both boys wore identically shocked expressions – mouths and eyes agape. "It's Draco – my petitioner," she clarified. "Lucius wants me for Draco."

Hermione had barely gotten Draco's name out before Ron had jumped up and started heading toward the portrait hole, fists clinched at his sides. "I'll kill him. I'll kill the weaselly git!"

"No. No, Ron," Hermione said as she gave pursuit, leaving Harry still in his chair, too stunned to realize what was going on. "Please." She took hold of his forearm, but he shook her off then whirled to face her.

"Why should I? You don't mean to protect that piece of dragon dung, do you?" His anger was getting the better of him, and he lashed out at her.

Hermione took a step back from him. His stance was pure rage, and it frightened her. "I just don't want you to get in trouble," she replied, frustrated. How did she always end up having to look out for them – for him? And, why was everything with Ron either hot or cold? He never gave her a second glance before, but now he was racing off to fight for her honor. She suspected he had just been waiting for a reason to confront Draco, and her situation had suddenly become the perfect excuse. As usual, he couldn't ever think of anyone but himself. Why couldn't he, just this once, think of her feelings?

She was angry and scared, and coming to realize that unless a miracle presented itself, she was doomed. All her dreams for the future were going to be ripped away from her at the hands of Draco Malfoy and his evil progenitor. She had been an only child – a lonely child – until coming to Hogwarts, her intellect and oddities alienating her in her early years from other muggle children. Upon coming to Hogwarts, she found others like herself and made her first true friends. She felt like she belonged, and like she had a future of her own choosing – filled with possibility. She dreamed of marrying for love and having a large family, of never being lonely again. And, even though she wasn't ready to admit it, she secretly hoped that Ron would someday make those dreams come true… But, as usual, he was behaving like a selfish prat, and she simply didn't have the emotional strength left to deal with him anymore.

"Never-mind, do whatever you want!" she said, her voice escalating in volume beyond the limits of her privacy spell until it became a screech. "I don't care!" She turned and ran for the stairs leading to the girls dormitory, her sobs echoing down into the silent common room and to the clueless boy left in it's center to wonder what had just happened.


	2. Chapter 2: Snape's Petition

**Chapter Two: Snape's Petition**

While Hermione cried herself to sleep behind the drawn curtains of her bed in the girl's dormitory of Gryffindor tower, Severus Snape was busy being blindsided by the wizard he had pledged his loyalty to – Albus Dumbledore.

"Surely, you jest," Severus blurted, appalled at the suggestion he could have sworn he had just heard.

"I wouldn't have mentioned it if I wasn't serious, Severus," Albus assured him.

Severus had come to number twelve, Grimmauld Place at the behest of the Headmaster for an emergency meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. Their agenda – to discuss the options available to them in regards to the Marriage Law. He never expected that he would become one of the options discussed. He sat stunned and staring disbelievingly at the Headmaster as the rest of the Order members surrounding the kitchen table became silent, watching their exchange. During his years spent serving the Dark Lord, he had been asked to do many horrific and bizarre things, but this request didn't compare. It was simply…unfathomable.

"Let me get this straight," he clarified. "You…want…_me _to marry Hermione Granger." Albus nodded. "The same bushy haired, annoying, little know-it-all that has irritated me to no end for the last five and some odd years – that Hermione Granger?" Albus nodded again. Severus stared at the Headmaster for a silent eternity as the other Order members collectively held their breaths. "Preposterous!" Severus flew from his seat in a flash and stood leaning toward the Headmaster with his hands braced on the old, wooden table. "I will not!" he all but shouted, outraged.

Albus was not surprised at Severus' reaction. In fact, he expected it, but there was no other choice, and Severus had to made to see that fact. "Calm yourself, Severus," he instructed in a placating manner, his hands gently waving for Severus to retake his chair. "We have to explore every option and having you petition the girl is one of our options."

Severus scowled, but slowly returned to his seat.

"Don't forget, Severus, the law applies to you, too," Albus pointed out. "You have less than a month to make a petition for a witch's hand, and I was simply suggesting that we kill two bats with one spell."

"I will _not_ marry the girl," Severus asserted adamantly, his teeth clinched as he spoke. "I will chose a more appropriate candidate for my future wife."

"Perhaps Severus is right, Albus," Minerva interjected. "Are you sure there are no other options? He already has so much on his plate, and, honestly, I hardly think he's prepared to deal with the young girls needs. I would hate to see her neglected in any way."

Severus gave Minerva a scathing look. He didn't appreciate her lack of faith in him even though he agreed with her protestation.

The Headmaster sighed. He hadn't wanted to make any further demands of Severus – a man he had taken every advantage of, but he had on many occasions sacrificed his scruples to achieve the greater end. It would seem this would be no different. "Let me speak frankly." He looked at group assembled and then settled his gaze on the brooding DADA professor. "Although this is not an ideal situation, you are the only solution – for many reasons. Firstly, the girl cannot be allowed to fall into the hands of Draco Malfoy. It would be disastrous for them both. Don't forget Draco is a member of your house and as such he is …_under_ _your protection_." Albus paused, inclining his head, and Severus knew it was a thinly veiled referral to the unbreakable vow he had made to Narcissa. "Think what will happen to the boy if he is forced to abuse the girl. It will destroy what is left of his innocence. He will have crossed a bridge from which there is no return."

"Yes… Yes…I know my obligations, and the girl is not one of them," Severus countered fiercely, "and who are you to lecture me about Draco's innocence? Have you thought about the girl's innocence? You do realize I would have to _bed_ her, don't you?"

Albus nodded, his expression grave. "The new law will cause many young witches to suffer needlessly, Severus. Better she lose her innocence at your gentle hands than at Draco's misguided ones."

"What would you know about it?" Severus fumed. "There isn't a gentle bone in my body, and I'm not certain I could manage it, anyway. She's a student – a mere child. My sexual proclivities may run darker than most, but I assure you, she's hardly my…_type_. I am no pedophile."

"Severus," Molly interrupted and all eyes turned to her. She had come to care for Hermione as a daughter and felt obligated to speak on her behalf. "If you are the only option left to us, then I must plead for you to help her. Minerva is right to be concerned for her emotional well-being, but I would rather see her mildly neglected by you than severely abused by someone else. When I think of the terrible things they must have planned for her… even if she did survive them… well, there is just no coming back from that. You may not care for her, but she is a good girl who doesn't deserve…" Molly's emotional side got the best of her, and she finished her plea through her tears. "Please," she begged, dabbing her eyes with her apron. "Don't let Hermione be lost to us."

Severus was starting to feel as if this impromptu meeting had been called for the express purpose of bulling him into petitioning the young witch, and he didn't like it one bit. Must he always be the one to safeguard everyone else's children? First Harry, then Draco, and now Hermione.

"You will be protecting them all by doing this," Albus interrupted his thoughts as if he was reading his mind, making Severus wonder if he'd let his mental wards slip. He huffed angrily, but didn't reply. "Very little will need to change – for either of you," Albus continued, trying to convince him. "All available resources will be at your disposal to make this as easy a transition as possible. You would have separate but adjacent chambers at Hogwarts and would only need to see her in class and to … _fulfill_ the requirements of the law. She could continue her studies uninterrupted with minimal inconvenience to you."

"Minimal inconvenience…" Severus mumbled and huffed again, annoyed at the whole damned situation. "And what about after the war? If I manage to survive it, win or lose I will be bound to her – _forever. _What then?"

"What will be, will be," Albus said sorrowfully. "These times will leave no one without scars, and, perhaps – in time and as she matures, your feelings about the union will change."

"I highly doubt it," Severus asserted, "but it seems I am left with no real choice in the matter." He stood swiftly, his posture stiff and resolute as though there was no point in talking further. He would do as he always did – whatever it took to thwart the Dark Lord. He didn't give two knuts what happened to the girl, but he knew that sacrificing the young witch would be a true loss to their cause. Her magical abilities alone were an asset, and Harry and the other Order members had grown to care for her. Her absence would be a distraction, and he couldn't allow anything to interfere with bringing down the Dark Lord. He must have his revenge! "I will send the petition first thing in the morning," he said tersely. "Make all the necessary arrangements." Then, he strode from the room, leaving the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix without a backwards glance.

* * *

Once mercifully gone from the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix and returned to his private chambers at Hogwarts, Severus poured himself two fingers of whiskey from the decanter on the sideboard in his lounge. It was the Scotch Minerva had given him last Christmas – his favorite. Of course, she hadn't known that when she gifted it. He was simply one of the lucky recipients of her generosity – as were all of his fellow professors, for she made it tradition to give them a fifth of it every year.

Normally, he treated himself to the amber liquid sparingly, choosing to savor the dignified nutty flavor, but tonight he barely had it poured before it was sliding down his throat and warming his belly. He needed the calming affect of the alcohol. He needed …

Great Merlin, what had he gotten himself into now?!

Striding toward the hearth, he cast a silent spell, stoking the fire so that the intensity of light and heat coming from it mimicked the roaring tension of his mood. Leaning his forearm against the mantle and gazing into the flames, he wondered how he would manage to survive this latest challenge to his abilities. He was buckling under the weight of his obligations as it was – Professor, Head of Slytherin House, double agent for Albus, sworn protector of Draco Malfoy and now this…

There were so many competing concerns running through his mind, he couldn't deside what bothered him most about the idea of marrying the young witch. He supposed it was the mere thought of the pesky girl always being on hand. The few unfettered moments he found alone in his chambers were all that kept him sane as of late. Soon, even that small respite would be gone, replaced by the scourge of Hermione Granger.

"Fuck!" he cursed as he turned to retrieve another tumbler full of whiskey.

Sitting himself in his fireside chair with an uncharacteristically inelegant "plop," he sipped at his second glass of Scotch with a little more restraint and tried to quell his frustration. It was his ability to remain unflappable that had kept him alive all these years, and it wouldn't do to let the prospect of marrying some school girl chit get to him now. He had seen and done some horrific things to protect his Death Eater persona, but this was different. It was personal.

He had always been able to keep himself separate from all the horrors he'd been exposed to by compartmentalizing all the different aspects of his life, keeping only a small bit of his true self for when he was alone in his private rooms where he surrounded himself with the things that calmed him, the personal treasures he had collected on his travels. It tore at him to think he would lose his last refuge – that the girl would be in his private rooms, a sanctuary that he guarded fiercely.

Yes, she would be in his space, but he knew that something worse awaited him if he did as Albus requested. Something he was loathe to think about. They would have to be intimate, and he would actually have to _touch _her. Perhaps, that's what was upsetting him the most. It didn't get much more personal than that.

His stomach rolled.

Simply picturing the girl was enough to nauseate him. All he could seem to bring to mind when he thought of her was the memory of her eleven year old self the first time he had the displeasure of meeting her in class. She was nothing but straw-like, bushy brown hair, buck teeth, and chubby cheeks – childlike and repulsive. Now that he thought about it, the only time he could recall having ever seen her look half presentable over the years had been at the Yule ball the year before last, and at the time, he assumed her marginally acceptable appearance was an illusion resulting from her escorts good looks rubbing off on her – a simple side effect of Viktor's Krum's handsomeness. Before and after that one occasion, he had done his best to ignore the little know-it-all completely. The blasted girl was always sticking her annoying little hand up during class when he was trying to lecture, and it had become his habit to look anywhere _but_ at her. Today in Albus's office was the first time in years he'd given her more than a passing glace and the only thing he had noticed was that she appeared short and dumpy, having grown rounder instead of taller. No, the girl was simply ugly and how was he supposed to bed that? If only Albus could have found someone else for the job it would save himself so much grief.

Initially, when he had learned about the law from the Dark Lord, he had planned to choose a prostitute for his wife – someone expert at keeping the personal things impersonal. He would have set her up in a comfortable apartment and visited only to meet the requirements of the law. It would have been convenient for him without interfering with his daily life and a good opportunity for any whore wishing to improve her station. A win – win for both parties. Leave it to Albus to thwart his plans.

He wondered if Albus truly knew the ramifications of what he was asking him to do. If he married the girl, it would surprise and possibly anger many people, the least of which was Lucius Malfoy. The Dark Lord himself might not like this sudden and unexpected turn of events. As if he wasn't in a precarious enough position as it was, he would now be risking the wrath of the Dark Lord. But then, that's what he did every day – for Lily.

He thought of his childhood friend and how she was at the age of seventeen – innocent and full of promise. How would she have fared at the hands of the Malfoys? The idea sickened him. She had been the brightest witch of her age, too, and she had been the only good thing that had ever come into his life.

He sighed at the memory of her and downed the last of the whiskey.

If she were still alive, she would have wanted him to go through with marrying the little Gryffindor. She had always coaxed him into her way of thinking, always reminding him to be kind when his predilections lead him towards the Dark. If he couldn't bring himself to do it for the girl's sake then he would do it for Lily's. As with everything he did, it was all for her.

Deciding that there was no point in dwelling on the unavoidable, he made his way through his rooms to his private study and seated himself at the large desk he had acquired on a trip to India. It was one of his favorite pieces – an antique hand carved Mahogany with Ivory inlay. There, he took out a fresh piece of parchment, inked his quill, and penned his petition for the girl's hand. He would send it first thing in the morning as he had said he would – consequences be damned.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and cool and crisp. The early October weather was Hermione's favorite time of year, and she removed herself from the castle for her usual walk around the grounds before breakfast. Most mornings she found the fresh air and solitude invigorating, but today not even the brilliant oranges and reds of the fall foliage could brighten her mood. The events of the previous day had set in motion a change within her, and she had begun to lament the loss of the things she had once hoped for. The most prominent being Ronald Weasley.

It was shocking to her how his actions and attitude last night had affected her, making startlingly clear something she had begun to suspect only recently – Ron Weasley was a selfish prat. Of course, she had always known he was immature and uninquisitive, showing interest in little other than Quiddich and his next meal, but she had always thought there was more to him than that – a kindness that would show itself as he matured. Now though, she was beginning to wonder if she had simply been seeing what she wanted to see. There was no doubt in her mind that he had been a good friend to Harry, always providing lighthearted distraction from the weight of his impending future, but she wondered what else he had ever provided. He was thoughtless with his words, and if Harry's or Hermione's interests interfered with his, he was quick to sulk or withhold his friendship all together – as he had done during forth year when Harry's name had been put into the Tri-wizard cup. Harry had needed him then, just as she had needed him last night, but they both had been let down. Maybe the future she had secretly hoped for with Ron was better off forsaken. It was a troubling thought.

When the breakfast bell tolled, Hermione made her way to the Great Hall and sat in her usual spot, awaiting her housemates. They finally joined her, Harry smiling sympathetically and sitting next to her, while Ron warily sat across from him, apparently having the good sense for once to know he had behaved badly.

"Oy, Hermione," Harry said as he sat down heavily. "How're you feelin'?"

"Fine. Thank you," she responded, putting on a casual, carefree front. She didn't want to revisit their discussion from last night. She was still to uncertain in her head and mixed up in her heart. She'd rather pretend it never happened.

"Listen," he said. "We're sorry about last night. We shou…"

"Don't apologize, Harry," she interrupted. "_You _did nothing wrong." She glanced coldly at Ron. "Things have a way of working themselves out. The Headmaster and Professors McGonagal and Snape are working on a solution to my problem. I'm sure something can be done."

"Yeah. Like Snape'd ever do anything to help one of us," Ron interjected sardonically.

Hermione wasn't impressed. Although Harry nodded his agreement with Ron's comment and she knew he was probably correct in assuming Snape had little interest in what happened to her – having seen _that_ for herself in Dumbledore's office, it was all she could do to bite her tongue against saying something disparaging toward Ron. It would accomplish nothing but to make herself look bitter, and the last thing she wanted to do was put Harry in an even more awkward position between them. She had learned how that felt for herself in fourth year. Anyway, she didn't have a chance to contemplate the demise of her positive feelings toward Ron because suddenly the Hall's rafters became inundated with owls delivering the day's post.

After yesterday's first round of petitions, every student in the Great Hall watched expectantly during this morning's deliveries. The witches and wizards under the influence of the law waited in fear, while the other younger students watched with morbid curiosity, wondering which of their elder housemates would be the next victim of the dreaded Marriage Law. The only one not concerned was Hermione. She had already had the worst of it – or so she thought.

After most of the owl post had been delivered and a few more girls and one boy had received the dreaded Ministry notice of petition, a straggling black owl flew into the Hall and circled above the Gryffindor table. Hermione didn't look up. She didn't need to – she could see everyone around her tense, their eyes directed above her head as the owl swooped unceremoniously above her, dropping her second petition into her eggs. And, like the day before, Professor McGonagal lay her hand on Hermione's shoulder, wordlessly directing her to follow.

* * *

As Hermione sat in the same chair as the day before, alone with the Headmaster in his office, she offered him the missive held carefully in her hand as if it were a viper.

"I'm going to let you do the honor today," he said, gesturing for her to open it. "You see, I already know who it's from."

The look on the Headmaster's face was indecipherable, but she was too nervous to hope for good news. After all, she had tried to come up with an alternative to Draco for the last twenty-four hours. If this petition was from someone the Headmaster had enlisted, it was someone she didn't know and marrying a stranger wasn't an idea she particularly liked. Carefully, she broke the seal and removed the folded parchment from it's envelope, reading the surprising petition inside.

**The Department of Magical Law Enforcement**

**Marriage Law Division**

_Dear Hermione Jean Granger,_

_On this, the 1__st__ day of October, 1996, a second petition was received for your hand in marriage on behalf of Mr. Severus Snape. As forth with stated in the Marriage law: Section two; Clause Six, you have seven days, ending at 11:59pm on the 7th day of October, 1996, in which to choose one of said petitions and sign the corresponding betrothal contract before legal action is taken against you. _

_If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to contact my office._

_Sincerely,_

_Albert Copperpott, Esq._

She read the letter three times before she could bring herself to look up at the Headmaster. If she had been shocked and confused at the petition on behalf of Draco Malfoy, it was nothing in comparison to the dismay she was struggling with now.

"I don't understand," she said, using the very same words she had the day prior when faced with the prospect of wedding her childhood nemesis.

"You see, dear girl, I can't let you fall into Voldemort's hands. We need you too much – Harry needs you too much. So, I encouraged Severus to petition you," the Headmaster explained as if it were only logical and nothing out of the ordinary, then held out a candy dish to her. "Lemon drop?"

Hermione stared at the old wizard as if he was insane and then shook her head, declining the sweets.

"Are you serious?" she questioned, her thoughts tumbling from her mouth. "He's a Death Eater, right? – Or at least he used to be, and he fancies the Dark Arts. He's no better than Draco – maybe worse. I … I …"

"Rest assured, Miss Granger, that Severus is the better choice in this situation – the only choice, really," the Headmaster stated. "The Order has agreed to this plan. It will keep you out of Voldemort's hands, and Severus can protect you from the Malfoy's. I trust his loyalty completely."

"But … but … he's so old," she said, her verbal filter completely gone. "I mean … he's my professor. I can't marry my professor, can I?"

Albus was tolerant of the girl's naivety. She was so very young. Too young to have to make this life altering commitment, but maybe something good would come of it. Severus deserved something good for all that he'd sacrificed and for what he feared Severus would have to do before it was all said and done.

"Just promise me you'll speak with him before you dismiss this option," the Headmaster requested. "I would hate to see any harm come to you."

Hermione nodded and rose from her seat, leaving the Headmaster's office in a daze.

* * *

Hermione sat, quietly waiting for Professor Snape to speak. The only noise in the room was the tick-tack of the magical, levitating timepiece that floated above one of the many book and oddity covered shelves of his office. He had greeted her moments before with a terse nod and a swift edict for her to "sit" as he rounded his desk to seat himself, his cape a billowy, black cloud around him. Sitting back in his creaky, old chair, he stared at her for a long, uneasy minute before he finally broke the silence.

"Let's get a few things straight before you consider signing my betrothal contract, Miss Granger," he began, his tone filled with his obvious disdain for her. "I did not want to petition you. I never planned to marry and certainly not to a bushy haired, insufferable, little know-it-all like you. If you decide to accept the petition, I will have several strict stipulations to the contract that you must agree upon, or I will rescind my offer. Am I understood?"

Hermione sat in the hard, wooden chair across the desk from her professor with her back straight, knees together, and his petition notice grasped tightly on her lap, attempting to give the appearance of a mature, capable young woman who would not cower before the intimidating man across from her. If anyone other than Professor Dumbledore had encouraged her to have this meeting with Professor Snape, she would not be sitting here in his office right now, letting him insult her. She didn't want to marry Draco, but she didn't think marrying Professor Snape was a better option. Out of the frying pan and into the fire – as they say.

Professor Snape was staring hatefully at her, awaiting her response. Out of respect for the Headmaster and being cognizant of how perilous her situation had become, she answered respectfully. "Yes, sir." What could it hurt to here him out?

"Very well." Professor Snape leaned forward in his chair and folded his hands, fingers interwoven, in front of him on the desk – his bearing imperious. "First and most important of all, I value my privacy, Miss Granger. If you are to become my… _wife_," his mouth puckered sourly on the word, "then you will undoubtedly become exposed to a portion of my private life. The details of which are to remain private. You will refrain from speaking of me or of anything that occurs between us with anyone. I will not have a bunch of school girls snickering at my passing in the halls. Are we clear?"

Hermione nodded. "I would never gossip about my… _husband_, sir." She almost couldn't say his possible future marital title; it felt so wrong on her tongue.

He raised an eyebrow at her doubtfully, but continued. "Secondly, I would expect a certain level of conduct from you at all times. I am a pureblood gentleman and expect the witch on my arm to always present herself as a lady, both in public and private. Your behavior is a reflection on me. Of course, you are unversed in pureblood etiquette, but I would remedy that after such time as we are joined."

"Of course," she replied politely, but felt more insulted with every word he uttered. Did he think she didn't know how to behave in polite society? Muggle or wizarding, her mother had raised her right.

"I also demand that you understand that as your husband I am the head of the household. You will defer to me in all things. I will take into consideration your needs when making decisions, but all decisions will be mine to make." Hermione opened her mouth to question his stipulation, but was abruptly interrupted before she could begin. "No exceptions!"

She flinched. With each condition he placed on their union, she felt like a bar was being added to the cage in which he would keep her for the rest of her life. Maybe, there was someone the Order had overlooked – there had to be someone somewhere that would want to marry her without making her life a living hell.

Professor Snape could see the wheels turning in the girls eyes. She was scared. Good. Only a fool would enter any marriage fearlessly. Better she understood up front what he expected from her in exchange for his protection.

"Let's call this what it is, Miss Granger," he said, wanting to clarify his position. "This is your best option for staying alive. It's no love match or even a union for the sake of companionship. I won't tolerate any schoolgirl notions about love or romance. I wish to have as little as possible to do with you during my day to day life. To that end, I will set up separate accommodations adjacent to my own chambers so that you will not be under foot."

"But, what about…" Hermione began to question, but couldn't bring herself to voice her concerns about sharing his bedchamber. The way he was making it sound about them living side by side but separate, she wondered if he knew a way around the physical aspect of the law.

"Ah, yes. We come to that," he replied, leaning back in his chair once more and looking amused by her discomfort. "The law has strict requirements when it comes to marital relations. The purpose of the law is, after all, to provide the Dark Lord with as many new followers as possible. As mandated, we shall be having intercourse at least two times a week." Hermione's mind began racing – did he say "at least?" He couldn't mean that he would want to… do it with her more than was required – could he? "Unlike most marriages," he continued, "under the new law, the spouses in the pure-blood/muggle unions are to be bound with fidelity charms. Therefore, it is impossible for a spouse to seek gratification elsewhere, making it the responsibility of each spouse to see that their husband or wife's needs are being met." His eyes grew dark at the insinuation of her meeting his needs. He could see her starting to tremble and lowered his voice, truly enjoying her distress. "Although I'm sure you've never thought of me as such, Miss Granger, I am a man, and, as my wife you will make yourself available to me should I have need of you. I will not spend the rest of my life frustrated. Do you understand?"

Images of her submitting nightly to the great, winged bat of the dungeons flashed through her mind. She wanted to cry, again. Would this nightmare never end? She looked down at her lap and collected herself. When she looked back up, he was studying her expectantly. Perhaps, it was his intention to scare her off from this union that he had made abundantly clear he didn't want. She decided she wouldn't let him heavy-hand her. If she was forced to agree to this arrangement, it would be a poor start to let him intimidate her now, and if his intention was to find entertainment at her expense, then she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"I understand, sir," she replied as unaffectedly as she could manage, "but, if you have nothing else to put forward, I have some concerns or…stipulations, if you will, of my own."

He sighed heavily. "Very well. If you must." He gazed at her as if he would allow her her requests, but only to appease her, not because he had any intention of agreeing to them.

"In regards to children, sir," she began, and he visibly winced at the topic. "If we… um, well, they are a possibility if we…" She couldn't bring herself to say it. Pausing to regroup, she began again. "If we have children, I would like to have an equal say in the decisions regarding their upbringing, sir."

His demeanor changed somewhat as he appraised her, becoming more speculative as his head tilted slightly to the side. "I see," he replied, noncommittally.

She surged on. "Being an only child, I have always hoped for a large family. I would not wish to sacrifice my role as a mother to anyone, sir. I would not want them taken from me, or my influence in their lives interfered with in any way. It is…" she paused, hesitantly – not sure if she should expose her weakness. "It is the thing I fear most about the law." She held herself straighter. "I would rather die a slow, torturous death than have my children taken from me. All else, I can endure."

Severus had never given the girls inner thoughts much consideration before, but with what little he knew of her, he had perceived her to be a more career minded witch. Her want of a large family took him by surprise. Although, it explained her infatuation with the Weasley boy. It was obvious even to him that she incessantly mooned over… which one was it? Oh, right… Ronald. It was apparent to everyone but the girl that they were an ill-suited match. The boy was a complete dunderhead, not an original thought in his head. But, he could see her attraction. He came from a large family like the one she wanted for herself. Too bad the boy wasn't of age. Were she to marry him, it would save everyone a lot of trouble. He wouldn't have to be debating over whether or not the girl in front of him would make a good mother. But then, he supposed anyone would do a better job of it than his own mother. She had been weak, letting his father abuse them daily with hateful words and heavy hands. Unlike his mother, the girl had a Griffyndor's courage, and she was willing to fight him for the rights to her children before they were even conceived. If her determination to protect her children continued on after their birth then she would most likely prove be a passable mother to his children. Yes, she would do. "Well, perhaps it's best if you take the lead should there be children from our coupling," he agreed. "I had never planned to become a father and can foresee no conflict in that area."

"Thank you, sir," she said respectfully. "May I ask for one more small concession?"

"Please, do," Professor Snape replied with excessive false decorum and a flourish of his hand.

Hermione ignored his sarcasm and presented her last request. "In exchange for your protection, I am willing to live without romantic love and will submit to your will as much as can be expected of any Griffyndor, but I do wish that we might have at least some measure of respect for one another. As such, I would ask that you refrain from calling me names, sir. I have a thick skin, but it's not impenetrable." She looked down at her hands again, gathering her courage. She didn't want to admit that some of the words he had spoken in the past had actually hurt her, but she knew she couldn't live a future full of derision. "It hurts me when you mock me, sir. I don't think I could respect my husband if he ridiculed me at every opportunity."

She waited for his response with her head lowered. When she could no longer tolerate the silence, she brought her eyes back up to his. His false cordiality was gone, replaced by the man she had come to know. His eyes were dark and threatening, his mouth twisted in a loathsome sneer.

"Do not presume to tell me how to speak to anyone, Miss Granger," he spat his reply at her. "I care not a wit what you think of me. I want your respect about as much as I want to take you for my wife. If you can't tolerate a few of my gentle criticisms, then you wouldn't survive a week at the hands of Lucius and Draco Malfoy."

"I… I'm sorry, sir," she said remorsefully. Although, she wasn't sure what she was sorry for. She was sorry for even hoping that he would treat her civilly. She was sorry that she had been put in this terrible predicament with this horrible man as her only salvation. But, most of all, she was sorry that despite his vileness and hostility, she would have no choice but to accept his petition as well as the stipulations he had put forth. As much as she would like to pretend otherwise, she had no real choice, and he knew it, too.

She turned her head to the side and took a deep breath, wiping a stray tear from her cheek before she turned to face him again. She felt a hopeless resignation settle over her as she said the words, "I accept your conditions, sir, and will do my best to be a good wife to you."

Life as she knew it was over.

* * *

That evening, Margaret Granger had just finished putting away the last of the dinner dishes when she heard a knocking at the front door.

"I'll get it," called her husband, Robert Granger, from his chair in the parlor where he sat – as he often did after dinner, reading the paper.

When Robert opened the door, he found a very curious pair of visitors on his front stoop. He immediately recognized the elderly man standing directly in front of him. One did not easily forget Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of his daughter's boarding school. He was wearing different clothing – an attempt at muggle attire, no doubt – but his long gray beard, half moon spectacles, and omnipotent countenance made him quite unforgettable. But, what was he doing here, and who was the dark, brooding man behind him? Panic rose in Robert's throat. Had something happened to his precious girl? "Headmaster?" he asked anxiously.

"Good evening, Dr. Granger," Professor Dumbledore greeted sedately. "May we come in?"

"Ah…ah, yes. Of course," Robert agreed, opening the door wider and stepping aside. "Um…is everything all right? Hermione … has she been hurt?"

Professor Dumbledore inclined his head as he entered the small foyer. "No. She is well – for now, but we do need to speak."

"Okay," Robert replied, his panic subsiding slightly but still leaving him greatly concerned. "Right this way." He turned and led the imposing pair down the short hall and into the parlor. "Please, sit."

"Who is it, Bob?" Margaret called from the kitchen. They very rarely had unexpected callers.

"Just a moment, please." Robert excused himself to the kitchen and returned leading his confused looking wife into the parlor by her elbow.

"Professor Dumbledore," she said, surprised as she recognized him. "We weren't expecting you."

"I apologize for this impromptu visit," Professor Dumbledore said, rising politely as she entered the room. Robert guided his wife to the sofa while she continued to dry her hands on her apron. The couple seated themselves across the coffee table from their guests who had already claimed the parlor's matching wingback chairs. "We need to speak to you about Hermione. Something has happened, and I felt it prudent to keep you informed."

"She…she's unharmed?" Margaret echoed her husband's first query, and her hands automatically sought his for comfort.

"She is fine," the Headmaster confirmed, "but I fear that if action isn't taken she may fall into harm's way." The Grangers exchanged frightened looks as they waited for the Headmaster to continue. "I'm not sure how well you follow the events transpiring in the wizarding community, but recently a law was passed by our governing body, the Wizengamot, that affects the wizarding populous between the ages of seventeen through forty five, and, since Hermione falls into that age range, she is subject to it's requirements."

"What's the nature of this law?" Hermione's father asked.

"It is a marriage law, designed by the dark wizards of our day to accomplish their villainous goals," the Headmaster replied evenly.

"A marriage law?" Margaret asked, growing more confused as the conversation progressed. "Why would this affect Hermione? She isn't married."

"You misunderstand," Professor Dumbledore explained. "The law is a mandate to marry, and the stipulations of which are very specific in their intent."

"You mean she is required to marry?" Robert asked, quick to comprehend.

Professor Dumbledore nodded his affirmation.

"But, she's just a girl." Margaret stated, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of what she was hearing. "Who are these dark wizards, and how could they possibly benefit from a child marrying?"

"It is as I feared," Professor Dumbledore stated. "Like most muggle parents, you have only been marginally informed of the events transpiring in the wizarding world. Your daughter, probably in an effort not to overly worry you, has failed to inform you how desperate our times have become."

"And, just how desperate have they become?" Robert asked, his tone edging away from concern toward anger.

"I won't mince words, Dr. Granger. We are in nothing less than a state of war."

Margaret gasped, horrified. "But… with whom? Over what?"

It was at that time that Professor Dumbledore launched into an explanation of the history of Voldemort, the first wizarding war, and the recent return of the Dark Lord and his followers, ending his lecture with a brief synopsis of the marriage law and the petition submitted on behalf of Draco. All the while, Severus Snape sat observing. He was a master spy, and, as such, it was his tendency to notice the subtle details others might miss. From the conservative decor of the home to the individual traits Hermione inherited from each parent, Severus didn't miss a thing. The man he found to be serious and practical, protective of his daughter and supportive of his wife. The woman was much like her daughter in looks and temperament, slightly high-strung but intelligent and committed to her loved ones. Their home he found welcoming, the smell of a homemade dinner still lingering in the air, and it was clean and well maintained. There was absolutely nothing impressive about any of it, but as a whole they were … perfect. He was surprised and troubled by his immediate … _regard _for the muggle couple sitting across from him. Normally, he would have disliked their kind of bland domesticity. They were everything he had never had and always resented – loving parents providing a safe and comfortable home, but for some reason that he couldn't pinpoint, he found a small part of himself hoping they would approve of him and his role in the Headmaster's plan to save Hermione. He knew they wouldn't – he was closer to their age than their daughter's, and his surly demeanor and beautiless appearance were off-putting, but still…

When the Headmaster had thoroughly apprised the couple of the situation, Hermione's parents sat in stunned silence. They had never dreamed that the pride they had felt at their daughter's admittance to Hogwarts could so easily turn to regret for the day she had ever received her acceptance letter. Their every hope for their daughter's future had been dashed in the course of only a few minutes spent in the parlor with the two wizards.

"What can we do?" Margaret asked, fighting back tears. "There must be something."

"Fortunately, I have a plan," Professor Dumbledore said and gestured to the wizard beside him. "Allow me to introduce Severus Snape. He is one of our Professor's, and I consider him my friend." The Grangers turned their attention to the dark man sitting to his right as if they had forgotten he was there. "I believe that the only viable solution to your daughter's quandary lies with Severus," Professor Dumbledore continued as the couple examined the dark, sullen wizard.

"How so?" Robert asked, eager for clarification.

"Dr. Granger," Professor Dumbledore's authoritative demeanor faltered for a split second as he hesitated, but he surged forward sounding confident in his reply. "Severus has been generous enough to offer to marry your daughter."

The stunned silence that had followed the news of their daughter's required nuptials and perilous Malfoy petition was nothing compared to slack jawed expressions of dismay the couple wore now.

"But…but…," Margaret sputtered.

"I hardly think marrying my daughter off to… to… this _man_ is going to solve the problem," Robert protested and stood, irate. "My daughter is not a possession to be given to the most convenient bachelor, irregardless of his disposition or merit. I won't allow it!"

Professor Dumbledore seemed nonplussed by Dr. Granger's outburst or the escalation of his wife's crying. "Please allow me to explain," he said calmly.

Robert tugged at the waist of his jumper and resumed his seat, his jaw clinched at the effort it took to regain his composure. "Very well," he agreed through gritted teeth.

"I assure you I did not choose Severus for convenience sake. Although his position as a professor would allow Hermione to remain at school, what it really boils down to is Severus' ability to protect your daughter," the Headmaster explained. "The Malfoy family has money, influence and power, and they will not appreciate being thwarted in their attempt to acquire your daughter. It will take a powerful wizard to keep her safe, even at Hogwarts, and Severus is the only wizard of the right age and ability to accomplish this task."

"And the fact that he gets to sully my daughter, a sweet innocent girl, has nothing to do with this arrangement?" Robert asked angrily, frustrated that these two men had come into his home and turned his whole world upside down. He couldn't let his daughter go to just anyone, and the thought of this strange, morose man touching his daughter infuriated him enough to cause him the loss of his good manners.

Robert's unfounded accusation also caused Severus the loss of his restraint. He had sat quietly and let Albus do the talking as he had been instructed to do, but he would not take insult without defending himself – especially when the affront had an unexpected sting to his pride. Why he had thought these muggles were any different – he couldn't say, but their reaction to the mere suggestion of him and their daughter together had disappointed and angered him, nonetheless. He leaned forward in his chair, holding the gaze of Hermione's father as he spoke in a low, condescending voice. "Let us understand each other, sir. I do not desire to wed or _bed_ your daughter. I am perfectly content as a bachelor, and were I to chose a wife she would not be a schoolgirl bookworm with a predilection for nosing around in other people's business. Marrying your daughter is a sacrifice I'm willing to make to spare her life, but I would gladly choose another if you are unhappy with my…_qualifications._"

The cold rebuke struck Robert speechless. He wasn't used to conflict, and he hadn't really meant to insult Professor Snape, but what was a father supposed to do – just accept that some stranger was more fit to protect his daughter than he was, or that this unsavory looking man was going to do very adult things to his little girl? It was more than he could bear, and he didn't know how to respond without lacing his words with malice. It was his wife, as it usually was, that quelled his temper by placing her calming hand on her husband's leg and answering for him.

"I'm sure you are a … _decent _man and quite capable of protecting our little girl, Professor Snape, but we had always hoped our Hermione would be lucky enough to marry someone she…" Margaret hesitated, looking over at her husband with a knowing gaze, "…_loved_."

Severus watched as the couple held each others hands and drew comfort from one another. Margaret's words seemed to have a calming effect on her husband, and even when she was done speaking they seemed to communicate without words. Their love for each other was obvious, and it was something that both intrigued and repulsed him. He didn't have first hand experience with either parental love or romantic love. The only love he had ever experienced was unrequited, and, although it still burned fiercely behind his desire to destroy the Dark Lord, it had been painful – not something he would ever choose to experience again. In fact, he often thought of love as a fool's notion, scoffing at all things hinting at romantic, but as he watched Hermione's parents together, he wondered for the first time if he had been missing something.

"I apologize, Professor," Robert said, returning his attention to Severus while still holding his wife's hand. "Margaret is right. We have been blessed to have each other all these years, and we only hoped our daughter would be as lucky. It angers me that she…that _we_ are all put in this position. I didn't mean to imply you had anything but noble intentions. I can only imagine how you must feel being forced to chose a bride, let alone having the responsibility of her welfare."

It was Severus that was now struck speechless. The man had not only apologized to him but also offered _him_ sympathy. He had never met people, muggle or wizarding, like the couple before him. They were…_good_ people.

"I know this is not what anyone here had hoped for, but it really is the safest option for your daughter," Professor Dumbledore said reassuringly.

Hermione's parents looked at each other sadly, Margaret swiping at her falling tears as she nodded her consent to her husband. He then turned to Severus.

"Promise me you will do everything in your power to keep our little girl safe," Robert requested.

"I promise," Severus said without hesitation and before he had time to think it through.

He suspected these muggles had somehow bewitched him. And, that was impressive seeing as they hadn't an ounce of magic between them.


End file.
